« ForrigeFortsett »
Weak and irresolute is man ;
The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away.
Vice seems already slain;
And it revives again.
Some foe to his upright intent
Finds out his weaker part; Virtue engages his assent,
But Pleasure wins his heart.
'Tis here the folly of the wise
Through all his art we view; And, while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.
Bound on a voyage of awful length
And dangers little known,
Man vainly trusts his own.
To reach the distant coast; The breath of Heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost.
THE MODERN PATRIOT.
REBELLION is my theme all day;
I only wish 'twould come (As who knows but perhaps it may ?)
A little nearer home.
Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
On t'other side the Atlantic,
But most so when most frantic.
When lawless mobs insult the court,
That man shall be my toast,
Who bravely breaks the most.
The choicest flowers she bears, Who constitutionally pulls
Your house about your ears.
Such civil broils are my delight,
Though some folks can't endure them, Who say the mob are mad outright,
And that a rope must cure them.
A rope ! I wish we patriots had
Such strings for all who need 'em What! hang a man for going mad !
Then farewell British freedom..
BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY,
TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS. BY THE MOB, IN THE MONTH OF
So then—the Vandals of our isle,
Sworn foes to sense and law,
Than ever Roman saw!
And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift,
And many a treasure more,
That graced his letter'd store.
Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn,
The loss was his alone;
The burning of his own.
ON THE SAME.
When wit and genius meet their doom
In all devouring flame,
And bid us fear the same. L'..
O'er Murray's loss the muses wept,
They felt the rude alarm,
His sacred head from harm.
There Memory, like the bee that's fed
From Flora's balmy store, The quintessence of all he read
Had treasured up before.
The lawless herd, with fury blind,
Have done him cruel wrong ;
The honey on his tongue.
THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;
OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.*
Thus says the prophet of the Turk,
* It may be proper to inform the reader, that this piece bas already appeared in print, having found its way, though with some unnecessary additions by an unknown hand, into the Leeds' Journal, without the author's privity.
May taste, whate'er his inclination,
These choose the back, the belly those ;
You laugh—'tis well--the tale applied May make you laugh on t'other side. Renounce the world—the preacher cries. We do a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards ; And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play ; Some love a concert, or a race ; And others shooting, and the chase. Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd ;